


Three's A Crowd

by Lovespie (Snarryeyes)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:03:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3619191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Lovespie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cross-posted from the Pinto Kink Meme. The prompt: <i>When they are shooting Trek 3, Zach's boyfriend comes over. Seeing the interaction with the couple, Chris is devastated. He performs perfectly on one break down scene or whatever. Zach knows something is off. He confronts with Chris. You can decide what happened next. But please be happy ending. The boys can be been together before but broke up because of the distance or different opinions with the relationship. Or can be they both had crush on each other but never told before.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Edited slightly to reflect Leonard's death, which occurred after I started writing this, and also to correct mistakes I've since noticed.
> 
> This is a work of pure fiction. No offense intended.

Everything’s good, Chris tells himself. Great, even. He’s back on his favorite movie set, with a fantastic group of actors who happen to be some of his very best friends, and a new director who seems to be working out pretty well. It’s not the same as having JJ around—and there’s still a lingering sadness from Leonard’s passing that hangs over all of them—but in the great scheme of things, it could have been a whole lot worse. Against what some might say were pretty poor odds back at the start, they've been granted a third Trek movie, and that feels like a gift. 

Yeah. Everything’s great. Chris rigidly ignores the fact that he’s reminded himself of this on no fewer than five occasions already over the course of the day, and ignores the effort he has to put into acting like it. 

Now shooting has wrapped for the day, most of the cast—and even a few crew—have invaded a local bar in Vancouver, which is where Chris sits now, around a large table they’ve constructed by a little improvised furniture rearrangement. Zach is sitting opposite, ridiculous hair and eyebrows temporarily hidden by a carefully arranged hat and glasses. Normally they’d be sitting together, and Chris would be ribbing him about it, invoking the use of his tiny violin whenever Zach started complaining about his sacrifices for his character. But today Zach’s attention has been almost entirely captured by another, and it’s not Chris who sits beside him, but Miles.

They’ve been together for quite a while, though, Chris reasons. Why shouldn’t Zach invite Miles to set? And he’s a good guy; laid back, easy to talk to, and with that whole Heath Ledger vibe he’s got going on, it’s not hard to see the attraction. But, for some reason, seeing them together like this makes something clench painfully inside Chris.

Oh, who is he kidding? He knows the exact reason. And judging by some of the looks he’s getting, from Karl and Zoe in particular, he’s not fooling them either. 

It’s not like Zach hasn’t had boyfriends before, but this is different. This isn’t like his easy-going, transient relationships of the past. It’s serious. Everyone can see that, including Chris.

When a laughing Miles ends up in Zach’s lap—during a funny story about one of his modeling trips to Paris—Chris gulps down the remainder of his drink to justify getting up for another. Unfortunately Karl immediately offers to help him, and Chris can guess why.

“So, want to talk about it?” Karl asks as soon as they reach the bar, bursts of laughter still echoing behind them.

Chris pointedly refuses to look at him. “Talk about what?”

Karl huffs a laugh. “You know, it’s hard to play the innocent act when you’re practically glowing green.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

“Yes, you do.”

Chris finally turns, a bite of impatience in his voice. “Look, there’s nothing to talk about. He’s happy. I’m happy for him.”

Karl lifts his hands in surrender. “If you say so. Just remember I’m here if you need a friend. And I think you do.”

Chris watches him return to the table with another round of drinks, and tries to think of a way he can bow out of the evening early without drawing too much attention. Migraine. A migraine would do it. Truth be told, he wouldn’t be surprised if he felt one coming on.

Thankfully, he manages it without too much fuss. And as soon as he gets outside, he can breathe properly again. Until the door opens behind him.

“Chris, hey!”

Unfortunately Chris isn’t far enough away to play the ignorance card. He reluctantly stops, glancing longingly at his ride, and then turns. “Hey.”

Zach looks concerned, his Spock eyebrows drawn together, which somehow looks even more ridiculous, even with the glasses. Still, Chris can’t even manage a smile.

“Are you going to be all right to drive?”

“Yeah, man, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind driving—“

“I’ll be fine, Zach!”

“Okay! Jesus. Sorry I asked.”

Great. Now Chris feels like even more of an asshole. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just…” He shakes his head, dismissing the rest of that sentence, not even sure what it was going to be. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He makes it to his rental car as the first waves of real pain lance through his skull. Right now, all he wants to do is the get the hell out of this place. So much so that, for the first time ever, he actually wishes that shooting was over and done with already. 

It doesn’t take long—only an hour or so of staring at the ceiling of his hotel room, riding an emotional rollercoaster of emotions including, but not limited to, self-pity and guilt—for Chris to realize that he’s being completely unfair. Zach is, first and foremost, his friend. And if this relationship is important to Zach, then Chris should be supporting it one hundred percent, personal feelings aside. Plus, he’s not even sure what those personal feelings are. Jealousy, as Karl so helpfully pointed out, is at least one of them, but that’s probably more to do with Miles encroaching on what Chris perceives to be his Trek territory. Which is ridiculous, maybe, but true. Because no matter what’s been going on in their personal lives, Trek has always been about the two of them—the rest of the cast too, of course, but the Chris/Zach, Kirk/Spock double act has always been its beating heart. And, yeah, it’s tough learning to share even a fraction of that. 

As for the rest, Chris can be happy for Zach, right? Zach deserves to find someone he can spend his life with. And, who knows? Maybe Miles really is _the one_. Maybe in a few years Chris will be searching for the perfect wedding gift. But that thought makes his chest tight again and he quickly abandons it. There’s nothing for it. He’s just going to have to suck it up and deal with it. Even with this decision made, and the pain in his head finally fading, sleep remains elusive for several more hours.

~~~

He’s in the makeup chair when he first sees Zach the next morning. Zach doesn’t confidently stroll in as he would usually do, though, slumping into a chair and griping about whatever’s aggravated him so far that morning. Instead he pauses in the doorway, like he’s unsure of the welcome he’ll receive. And of course this makes Chris feel ten times more of a dick. He needs to clear the air.

Chris manages a smile, small but genuine. “Hey,” he offers. 

“Hey,” Zach bats it right back.

Figuring he should get it over and done with, despite the presence of Lucy, his diligent makeup artist, Chris follows up with, “Listen, I’m sorry about last night, man. I know I was kind of an asshole.”

Zach arches one perfectly sculpted brow. “Kind of?” He’s smiling now, at least, finally stepping into the room fully.

Chris snorts. “Yeah, okay, just an asshole. It was the pain, Zach. The pain!” he cries dramatically, an old shared joke harking back to a night involving an original Trek marathon, Spock, and the Horta.

“You’re such a jerk,” Zach replies, but it’s said with laughter and affection. He collapses into the adjacent chair, even though his makeup is already done, Vulcan ears and eyebrows set meticulously in place. It takes so long that he’s always one of the first to arrive. “So, are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah.” Chris’ voice sounds unconvincing even to him. Lack of sleep, coupled with the very real headache that last night brought on, has left him feeling less than stellar this morning.

“Uh-huh.” Zach isn’t convinced either. He leans forward in his seat, peering at Chris a little too closely for comfort. “You don’t look it, dude.”

“Such sweet words, Zachary,” Chris gushes, covering. Actually, he feels a lot better just from the familiar exchange of banter. Somewhat ironic that Zach is both cause and cure. “I don’t know,” he says, because those dark eyes are still trained on him like a hawk. “Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

“Don’t say that too loudly or you’ll have movie executives panicking.”

“I’ll be fine. Where’s Miles?” Chris asks, bravely taking the knife to change the subject.

“Seizing the opportunity to ski over in Whistler. He wants me to go with him, but I’ll only end up breaking a limb.”

“Skiing is a lot of fun, broken limbs notwithstanding.” Chris almost smirks, imagining those movie executives now trying to breathe slowly into brown paper bags. Of course, he knows better than to risk injury while they’re still shooting.

“Okay, all done,” Lucy announces, stepping away.

Chris tears the protective cape away from his gold uniform with a smile in her direction and a warm thank you. And then they’re being ushered to set—different sets, different scenes—and Chris’ tiredness is back, but there’s also relief. He isn’t at all sure he can keep up the pretence for a whole day under Zach’s razor-sharp gaze.


	2. Chapter 2

They break for lunch early and Chris wolfs all of his food down in record time, so that by the time Zach appears, he’s hunched over his phone, pretending to be busy. It’s a cowardly move, he knows that, but Zach doesn’t seem all that bothered. He takes a seat nearby, throws a couple of teasing comments Chris’ way, and then gets caught up in a discussion with John and Zoe about the latest federal strike-down of a same-sex marriage ban, and how, slowly but surely, they’re turning the tide on marriage equality.

Vaguely listening to their conversation, Chris wonders if Zach’s thought about asking Miles the big question, if that’s something they’ve talked about. He can imagine the sort of ceremony they’d have… simple but beautiful, somewhere away from the city…

“Chris!”

Chris snaps his head up. “Huh?”

Zach just looks amused as he holds his phone up, waving it a little. “You up for a rematch?”

It takes Chris a second to catch up. Words with Friends. He’d beaten Zach the day before with _bequest_ on a triple word block.

“Uh… yeah. Sure.”

Zach laughs. “You don’t sound it, dude. Afraid I’ll beat you this time?”

Chris’ competitive side takes over at that point, and it almost feels like everything is back to normal as he scoffs loudly. “Bring it on, man.”

The game continues past their lunch break, well into the afternoon. Whenever there’s a break in-between takes or something needs setting up or rearranging, Chris checks his phone to see if Zach has updated, from somewhere across the lot, and then plays his own turn. This back and forth doesn’t carry the same pressure as being in the same room as him. It’s just their usual everyday word war.

Chris can’t help grinning from ear to ear when Zach replies to his latest play—one he’s particularly proud of—with _Sanguine? Impressive, Pine_. He can almost hear the tone of disbelief. Chris taps out _If you want to concede now, I’ll understand_ and adds a winking emoticon.

Two minutes later, Zach places _quixotry_ on two double word blocks, prompting Chris to curse loudly. It earns a frown from the nearest AD.

They wrap for the day around six that evening, a little earlier than usual. Chris is tired, but he’s also buzzing with the adrenaline that comes from being on set, and he’s ravenous to boot. So when Zach arrives at his trailer to tell him that everyone’s heading out for dinner, Chris is hard pressed to refuse the invitation, even more so when Zach informs him that Miles won’t be joining them.

“He’s pretty wiped out from the slopes,” Zach explains with a shrug. “I’ll take him some scraps later. So, are you in?”

“Sure, sounds good,” Chris smiles, pulling a sweater on. Even though he’s almost fully dressed at this point, Zach seems intent on keeping his gaze averted, and Chris has to suppress a snort, because Zach has seen him a lot more naked than this over the course of filming and promoting two movies together. “So, quixotry, huh?” he says in an effort to keep the conversation going.

Zach’s eyes snap to Chris’ face, his instant victorious grin at odds with his attempt at a modest shrug, and this time Chris does snort, because while Chris has been known to be a bad loser occasionally, Zach is an appalling winner. His drive to beat any and all opponents, especially in games involving the English language, eclipses all else.

“I’ll have you next time,” Chris tells him, waggling a finger Zach’s way as he grabs his jacket. 

Zach quirks an eyebrow and tilts his head slightly in a perfect Spock gesture, but there’s a smirk edging his lips upwards. “I’ll look forward to it.”

~~~

Dinner turns out to be the most fun Chris has had in ages. He doesn’t stop to consider why that might be, content to simply enjoy it and let the tiredness and stress flow from his body, aided by a full stomach and several beers. Zach is sitting pressed up against him, laughing against his shoulder at Simon’s story of the day’s funniest moment—sure to end up on the gag reel—and Chris is laughing too, although he’s laughing more at Zach than anything else. He’s always found Zach’s laughter to be entirely too contagious, as evidenced by the now infamous clip of their appearance on that Russian talk show during their last press tour. And if Karl happens to be looking at them from across the table with an expression that can only be described as contemplative, Chris cheerfully ignores him. This is exactly how it’s always been when they’re together. He waits for Zach to lift his head, laughter subsiding, and grabs another beer.

They walk back to the hotel later that night as a group, but somewhere along the way the company fractures into smaller clusters, and it eventually becomes just the two of them. Chris and Zach. Like Bert and Ernie, Chris thinks, and snickers.

Zach snorts as Chris proceeds to stumble over an invisible obstacle on the sidewalk. “You are so drunk, dude.”

“’M fine!” Chris insists, even as his body weaves perilously close to a street light, which Zach has to save him from. Okay, maybe he’s a little drunk. It feels good, though. Right now, he’s feeling better about everything and he’s overwhelmed by a sudden surge of affection for the dork at his elbow—his best friend in the world, or one of them at least. “I love you, man.”

There’s a burst of deep, rumbling laughter from Zach. “Jesus, we’re at the declarations of love stage already.”

“You’re my BF…” Chris frowns, thinking, “F…”

“And ridiculous acronyms,” Zach sighs, his expression somewhere between fondness and exasperation. “Seriously, Pine. Stop.”

Chris just grins, letting Zach steer him around a corner that brings their hotel into view. 

Ever the good friend—Best Friend Forever, Chris thinks in a sing-song voice—Zach takes him all the way to his room, ensuring that Chris gets inside safely. “Drink some water before you go to sleep,” he says as Chris flips the lights on. “We don’t want to inflict grumpy Pine on the world tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mom.” 

It’s when Chris turns to salute Zach that he loses his balance completely, causing him to fall forwards, hit his head on the open door and rebound off it to fall backwards, where he ends up in a sprawled heap on the cream carpet.

“Chris!” Zach’s concerned face fills his vision, drifting in and out of focus, warm fingers brushing his neck. “Shit, are you okay?”

Looking up at him, Chris is struck by the rich color of his eyes, and the intensity with which they’re gazing into his. It’s strange, but it feels like he’s looking at Zach properly for the first time. And in that moment, everything seems to shift and coalesce in his mind: the sheer unrivaled happiness he feels whenever they spend any time together, his jealousy towards Miles, and the very real need he has at this precise moment to pull Zach’s mouth down to meet his. There’s only one inevitable conclusion, and it sobers Chris up faster than a dozen espressos. 

He’s completely fucked.

Chris shuts his eyes, trying to will all of those feelings away, but that only causes Zach to believe that he’s really hurt himself.

“Chris! Fuck. Okay, stay there, I’ll get someone.”

He finds his voice then, blindly reaching out to grab at Zach, finding his sleeve. “No, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Chris—“

“Just… “ Chris winces, because his head does actually hurt quite a bit. “Just help me up.”

There’s a rustle of movement, and then Zach’s fingers slide underneath his shoulders, lifting him slowly and carefully until he’s resting against a firm chest. And god, that feels nice.

Yeah, most definitely totally and utterly _fucked_.

“Okay?” Zach asks. 

Chris mumbles an affirmative, prompting Zach to keep going until he’s standing, maneuvering him on unsteady legs to the bed. Zach’s face once again fills Chris’ vision as he kneels in front of him, and, for one crazy moment, Chris’ brain—addled as it is by the lingering effects of alcohol and a slight concussion—comes up with the crazy idea that he’s going to propose or something. But it quickly becomes clear that Zach only intends to check him over.

“You’re lucky you have a thick skull,” he murmurs.

Chris hears the soft admonishment for not being more careful, but he’s having trouble concentrating on anything other than the gentle fingers ghosting over what feels like a sizable lump on his forehead, and the warm breath on his cheek. It’s intense and overwhelming, causing Chris to turn his head away.

“It’s fine.” 

He can hear Zach’s frown. “You sure?”

“Yeah, man. I just need to sleep.” The conversation has become too serious, and it feels awkward in a way it never has before. Chris flips it back by plastering a stupid grin on his face and leering at Zach. “You gonna tuck me in?”

It works as intended, Zach rolling his eyes as he stands, a huff of amusement passing his lips. “Yeah, I’d say you’re fine. So if you’re done playing pinball off the furniture, I have my own bed to get to and a hot model to satisfy.”

This time, Chris’ wince goes deeper than playful banter. “TMI, man.”

Zach laughs from the door, throwing a, “You’re just jealous,” over his shoulder. “Night, Chris.”

Collapsing back onto the bed as the door closes, Chris stares up at the ceiling again, wondering if Zach has any idea how true those words are.

~~~

 

If Chris thought things were awkward before, his epiphany brings it to a whole new level. He can barely look at Zach the following day, let alone hold a conversation with him. It’s like he’s regressed to a fifth grader. Fortunately Zach puts it down to the bump on his head, which the make-up department spends the majority of an hour tutting and fussing over. Zach’s even thought to bring Tylenol to set, which is both endearing and irritating, because all Chris wants to do is hug him, and he can’t risk getting that close. He can’t avoid him either, since today’s big scene is Kirk and Spock engaging in a fight with a dozen Romulans—something they’ve spent weeks in a gym training for.

Justin runs them through the scene again first, blow by blow, giving particular instructions and answering any questions that arise. Chris tries his best to get his head in the game and ignore Zach, who’s standing close enough for their arms to touch. It reminds Chris of the press tours and the fact that they often end up sitting so close they could almost be one person. Spork, they joke whenever it’s mentioned. Chris never really thought about why he had that need for contact—it seems he’s been blind to a lot of things.

“Chris?”

“Huh?” Chris’ gaze darts towards Justin as he tries to grasp some strand of the conversation. So much for getting his head in the game.

“Are you good to go?”

Chris gives him a firm nod, clearing everything else out of his mind. “Absolutely.”

“Okay, stand by…”

It’s a grueling morning. By the time they break for lunch, they have the beginning of the scene in the can but the majority of the fighting still to come. Chris’ shoulders are already aching.

“You okay?” Zach asks from the seat next to him, and Chris realizes he’s been pushing his chicken around his plate for the best part of twenty minutes. He should be ravenous, but he can’t bring himself to eat more than a few mouthfuls.

Chris looks up, rolling his shoulders with a grimace. “Just a bit sore.” It’s meant as a deflection, a simple enough answer to get Zach off his case. What he doesn’t expect is for Zach to scoot his chair closer and plant two hands on his shoulders, beginning a gentle massage.

“You’re tensing,” Zach murmurs. “Relax.”

It’s not like Zach hasn’t given him a massage before, but that was back when he was firmly in friend territory. Now the glances and smirks directed at them, which Chris would have laughed off—even played up to—before, make him want to bolt from the room. He stays absolutely still for a couple of minutes, unable to relax at all, and then shifts away with a muttered, “That’s better. Thanks.” It isn’t in the slightest.

Zach’s brow is slightly furrowed as he withdraws his hands. He looks as if he’s on the point of saying something else when they’re called back to set. Saved by the bell—or the crew member with the megaphone, Chris amends in his head.

The afternoon proves far worse for Chris. With very little in his stomach, and the return of his headache, every minute is grueling. And having Zach so close just complicates matters further. Chris is having trouble remembering his training and, more importantly, the precise fight choreography, which they’ve been over again and again and he should know by heart. But his mind is a jumble, and he screws up take after take. 

Inevitably, it ends badly. Engaged in one-on-one combat with a particularly bulky Romulan, he moves left when he should have moved right, and ends up with a fist buried in his chest. He barely hears Justin shout, “Cut!” as he crumples to the ground, feeling as though he’s been shot through the heart. 

“Chris!”

Zach’s voice. It’s followed by others, but Zach is there first, and it does nothing to quell the ache in Chris’ chest.

“Someone get a medic!”

“No, I’m fine,” Chris tries to say, except he can’t seem to get the words out. All he can do is wheeze as he’s turned over and held, finding himself against Zach’s chest once again.

“I’m…” He coughs, takes a breath. “I’m fine.”

“Jesus Christ, Chris,” Zach says, as if he’d done it on purpose. “One of these days you’re going to really hurt yourself.”

Chris wants to say that it hurts more being held like this, held like he’s the most precious thing in the world to Zach when he knows that he isn’t. Instead he closes his eyes and focuses on trying to breathe the ache away. He hears the guy who’s playing the Romulan apologizing profusely, but Chris knows he wasn’t to blame. This is Chris’ fault. This whole mess is on him.

It takes some time, but he manages to convince everyone that he doesn’t need a doctor and he definitely doesn’t need to go to the hospital. He’s just winded, bruised, and also incredibly embarrassed. At Justin’s insistence, he sits in a chair off-set for a while with a bottle of water, taking small sips as Zach hovers nearby. Chris wishes he wouldn’t.

They get a little more in the can before Justin calls it a day. Chris is beyond thankful to stop, practically dead on his feet, every part of his body heavy and aching. Predictably, Zach catches up with him as he leaves the set, and Chris lines up a whole host of excuses to prevent them spending any more time together. As it turns out, they aren’t necessary. 

“Hey, babe.” Miles is waiting, beautiful smile in place. “Chris,” he adds, smile not faltering. Chris smiles back, but can’t quite make eye contact. “They tell me you’re done for the day. Want to grab some dinner?”

“Sure,” Zach says, smiling as he pulls Miles in for a kiss. “Just let me get de-Spocked.”

Chris decides to make an escape before he has to endure any more PDA. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

“Oh hey, Chris, you’re welcome to come, too,” Zach offers.

“Of course,” Miles agrees readily, absolutely sincere, which only makes Chris feel like more of a dick. “Come on, join us. You can fill me in on more embarrassing Zach stories.”

Chris tries to smile. “Thanks, guys, but I’m just gonna crash.”

“Not literally, please,” Zach says in a long-suffering tone. “I think you’ve beaten yourself up enough for one day.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise. Now go have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Zach smiles at him before his attention returns to Miles; he loops an arm around his waist as they head off together, chatting amiably.

Chris doesn’t head to his own room. He knocks on a different door, which opens within a few seconds.

“Chris!”

“You said if I needed a friend…”

Karl opens the door wider, his expression sliding from curious to sympathetic. “Come in.”


	3. Chapter 3

It actually helps to unload on Karl, releasing everything he’s been bottling up for days. They spend several hours talking things through over a bottle of scotch, and even though it doesn’t resolve the problem, it feels good to have it out in the open. 

Still, spending the days that follow so close to Zach takes its toll. They manage to get the rest of the scene in the can without Chris ending up with any serious injuries, but there are some close calls. Quite honestly, he feels like he’s going crazy. Having these feelings for Zach when he can’t do a damn thing about it, when it seems like Miles is around every corner just waiting to engage in PDA right in front of him, is the worst kind of torture he can imagine. Worse are the thoughts of what could have been, of the times when Zach had been in-between boyfriends, when Chris could have said something if only he’d _known_. He’s starring in his own love story and it’s fucking tragic. But he really has no one else to blame.

“Hey, Zoe…” Spotting Miles ahead as they leave the set, Chris latches onto her to avoid walking with Zach and bearing witness to the inevitable display about to occur. “About that scene tomorrow…” 

She, of course, sees right through him. “You can’t avoid him forever, you know.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” Chris protests weakly. “We’ve just spent the whole day together, remember?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” she says, prodding his chest with a beautifully manicured finger. “He’s going to realize that something’s up.”

“Yeah… well…” Chris trails off, unable to come up with anything else to say.

She squeezes his arm, gentling her tone, leading him in the opposite direction to Zach and Miles. “Sweetie, I love you—both of you—and I want you to be happy.”

“He _is_ happy,” Chris points out, forcing himself not to look back at what he’s pretty sure is solid evidence of that happening right now. He doesn’t need to see it _again_. “I’m not going to ruin that for him, okay? Besides, he would have said something by now if he felt anything for me. Right?” 

“Uh-huh. Like you did, you mean.”

Chris scowls weakly—because maybe, just maybe she has a point—and they part ways, Chris heading to his dressing room. He puts off getting changed, sinking wearily onto the couch instead, lifting his heavy legs so that he’s positioned along the entire length. His ever-present headache urges his eyes closed. It’s not quite as comfortable as the couch in his old trailer in the Paramount backlot, and his room isn’t as spacious—just one of the adjustments they’ve had to make moving production up to Vancouver. But then, if they were shooting in LA, Zach would probably have spent hours at Chris’ place as he usually did, so perhaps it’s a blessing. Distance. A little bit of distance is what he needs right now. Just until he can get a handle on this thing.

An indeterminate amount of time later, there’s a sharp knock on the door. Chris jumps but keeps his eyes closed and doesn’t answer. He has a good idea who’s on the other side of it, because life keeps right on sticking that knife in.

“Chris?”

_Bingo._

Chris stays silent, hoping Zach will go away. When he hears the door open, although his heart jumps again, he keeps his face carefully relaxed, his breathing even. Not daring to open his eyes, even a crack because he can feel the heat of Zach’s gaze on him, he strains his ears for the slightest sound to paint a mental picture of what he can’t see. There are soft footfalls as Zach approaches and then silence. It takes all of Chris’ self control and a fair amount of acting skill to keep feigning sleep, all the time wondering why Zach is just standing there. Then Zach’s even closer, and Chris is sure his heart is going to beat right out of his chest; sure that Zach must be able to see it.

When something is pulled across his body, Chris jerks in surprise, but he’s able to mask it by shifting position, quickly settling once more. He feels a hand rest lightly on his shoulder, a warm fleeting touch that is gone before he can attempt to analyze its meaning. The next sound he hears is the soft _snick_ of the door closing.

The first thing Chris sees when he opens his eyes, is the soft cream blanket now covering him. He spends the next twenty minutes or so wondering what Zach wanted, one hand unconsciously clutching the blanket to his face, until the wardrobe department hunt him down and demand his uniform back before he can ‘Pine’ it again.

~~~

Zoe’s right about one thing; Chris can’t avoid Zach forever. The sickness excuse is already wearing thin (as is the make-up department’s patience with the increasingly dark shadows under his eyes). So the next evening, when he’s invited out to a bar to wind down after filming—the same bar as last time, in fact—he reluctantly accepts to allay any further suspicion. He isn’t sure it’s all that successful, though. Miles is there again, and although Chris goes through the evening with a smile plastered on his face, it’s more pained than cheerful—so pained that John asks if he needs some aspirin or a shot of Pepto-Bismol.

He likes Miles, Chris reminds himself again in an effort to quell the beast inside baying for his blood. Miles, who is sweet and funny… and who apparently always needs to have some form of contact with Zach, whether it’s a hand curled around the back of his neck, or limbs pressed together, or totally unnecessary PDA that forces Chris to look away. In an effort to regain inner serenity, Chris tries focusing on Zach instead, but ironically that almost proves to be his undoing because Zach looks perfectly, blissfully _happy_. Not just the happiness of beer and laughter and good company, but ‘happily ever after’ happy—the kind of happiness that shines through every pore of skin and creates a halo of contentment.

And that’s when Chris knows for sure that he can’t tell him. Ruining this for Zach would make him the worst kind of friend—no, it would make him an absolute asshole. He missed his chance. He’s just going to have to live with that, even if the finality of this decision leaves a pain in his chest that no drugs will touch. He can only hope that time and distance will diminish it.

Forcing a laugh at a joke he didn’t hear, Chris takes another gulp of beer, wondering how soon he can leave.

~~~

It’s a scene with Karl the next day that brings things to a head. With precious little sleep and everything still feeling exposed and raw, Chris’ emotions are that much closer to the surface, and it feels like he’s walking a tightrope trying to control them. Unfortunately, but quite predictably given his luck, the scene in question requires him to tap into his those emotions, and while that wouldn’t normally be a problem, Chris is feeling the strain this time.

Thankfully they’ve already shot the bridge scene that precedes it—the one that includes Spock—when Kirk is forced to retreat from a battle due to heavy damage, despite the fact that a number of his crew remain captured on board the Romulan ship. Now it’s the fallout, with Bones in hot pursuit as Kirk leaves the bridge, almost shouting in his protest. But it’s the last scene of the day and it’s late, making Chris’ control that much more tenuous—especially when they’ve done at least ten takes already.

“That’s great,” Justin says after take eleven. “We’re almost there… I’d just like to see a little more emotion from you, Chris—Kirk breaking under the guilt of his decision to give those men up. He’s tired and beaten down, okay?”

“Sure,” Chris says, nodding. After all, tired and beaten down really isn’t much of a stretch right now. And he needs to get this scene in the bag.

“Okay, from the top.” Justin pauses, waiting until they’re back on their starting marks. “Ready. And… action!”

Chris starts walking from the bridge into the adjacent corridor, hearing Karl a few steps behind.

“Jim!”

“I know what you’re going to say, Bones,” Chris says, cutting him off without looking back. “Just leave it.”

Karl’s hand closes around his arm, spinning him around so that they’re both on their designated marks. In his periphery vision, Chris can see the camera closing in to focus on his face.

“I won’t leave it!” Karl replies harshly, his southern drawl smothered by indignation. “What about those people back there? We can’t just abandon them!”

A memory flashes unexpectedly to the forefront of Chris’ mind; another argument in another corridor during the last movie, only then it had been Zach opposite him. He remembers that day as vividly as if it were yesterday—how they had played off one another, coaxing the very best performance. Everything had been so simple then; nothing between them but love and trust in friendship alone. Now that’s broken, perhaps irrevocably. 

Something in Chris breaks as he snaps back, his thoughts churning. “Do you think I want to give up? That this decision isn’t killing me? Trust me, it goes against every fiber of my being! I can’t…”

And Chris isn’t even sure what he’s talking about anymore, where his character ends and he begins, as everything he’s been trying to re-bury for days escapes in a rush. He vaguely remembers the direction to brace himself against the bulkhead, and he does just as the first tear slips down his cheek. He tries to remember his lines, hang onto some vestige of his character, but all he can see now is Zach.

Karl moves to his side, a reassuring presence both in and out of character. “Jim…”

The name snaps Chris back to the scene at hand. He swallows thickly, reining in his emotions. “I can’t help them, Bones. I wish I could, but I can’t… I’m sorry.”

“Cut! That was fantastic work, Chris. Amazing!”

Justin’s praise goes unheard as Chris turns and finds himself pinned by dark eyes. Zach is standing just off-set, his Spock eyebrows drawn tightly together, looking at Chris like he can see right through him. And Chris can’t deal with it, not right now. Scrubbing a hand across his wet face, Chris hastily asks if they’re done for the day and, upon receiving confirmation, quickly flees the set in the opposite direction.


	4. Chapter 4

Zach’s frown deepens as he watches Chris go, his gaze sweeping back to rest on Karl, who looks like he’s contemplating going after him. He apparently decides against it, stepping off the set to grab a bottle of water from a nearby table. Zach gets the strong impression that Karl knows what’s going on, and something is definitely going on. Zach knows that without a doubt now. Time to find out what it is.

“Karl!” he calls, moving towards him. Karl turns, the water bottle at his mouth doing nothing to block his surprise at Zach’s presence, surprise that turns to something like realization. Zach tries to ignore it. “Is Chris okay?”

Karl snorts mirthlessly. “Define okay.” He lowers the bottle and looks steadily at Zach then, scrutinizing every inch of his face. “Jesus… you really don’t have a clue, do you?”

Zach huffs his impatience, but there’s worry creeping into the center of it. “About _what?_ ”

“Oh, man.” Karl shakes his head. “I do _not_ want to be in the middle of this one. Just… talk to him, and I mean properly talk to him. Okay? Don’t take any of his deflection bullshit.”

Zach’s brow creases even further as various explanations flash through his brain, along with about a hundred questions, but he stems them in favor of going after Chris. Make-up will have to wait for his prosthetics. Right now, he has other priorities. What he doesn’t understand, though, and what’s causing a bloom of pain somewhere deep inside, is why Chris confided in Karl rather than him. He had thought they were closer than that.

“Chris?” he calls out, reaching Chris’ dressing room and knocking louder than is strictly necessary. The door is usually open, unless Chris is in the shower, but he doesn’t hear any water running. “Chris, I’m coming in. Okay?” 

The door opens before he can turn the handle. “What’s up?” Chris asks casually. 

Zach sees right through his cheerful act. Up close, he looks even more tired and drawn, and a horrible thought occurs. “Is this about you being sick? Is it serious?”

“Huh?” 

Chris’ obvious confusion would seem to indicate otherwise. Zach cuts to the chase. “Something’s going on, and I want to know what it is.”

There it is again. That closed off expression. Chris turns and goes to retrieve a bottle of water from the table. “Nothing’s going on.”

Zach follows him inside, Karl’s parting words echoing in his mind. “Bullshit. You’ve been acting weird for days, you look like hell, and what was that back there? I know you, Chris, and that wasn’t just an act. It was real.”

“Zach…” Chris sighs, still facing away from him. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Why the hell not? What, you can tell Karl, but you can’t tell me?”

“I didn’t tell Karl. He guessed.”

“Semantics,” Zach dismisses. “The point is, why haven’t you talked to _me_?” Chris’ shoulders slump and Zach takes a calming breath, reminding himself that he’s here for Chris, not to lecture. He steps closer, placing a reassuring hand on Chris’ shoulder, softening his voice. “You know you can tell me anything. _Anything_ , Chris.”

Chris makes a noise, somewhere between a snort and a sniffle. “Not this. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” In a flash, Zach’s impatience rushes back, his mind supplying the memory of every evasive answer and avoidance tactic Chris has used over the past week. He pulls his hand away. “But you won’t trust me? I thought we were friends…”

“We are.”

“Then why—“

Chris spins around, his eyes a deep stormy blue. “Jesus Christ, Zach, I can’t tell you! I just…” He runs a hand though his hair, lets it flop to his side, “can’t. I’m sorry if that’s not the answer you wanted.”

“Right.” Chris flinches slightly at the cold tone, and Zach feels a stab of something close to satisfaction that he’s inflicted a little hurt of his own. “I guess there’s nothing more to say then.”

“Zach,” Chris says, and there’s a note of pleading now as Zach turns to go. “It’s not you. It’s—“

“Please spare me the clichés. See you around, Pine.”

~~~

The next few days are filled with awkward silences and stilted conversations, and Chris hates it—hates that he’s squandering what remains of his Trek experience because of a stupid argument. But the only way to fix it is to tell Zach what’s really going on, and he’s pretty sure that would only make the situation ten times worse… _Hey, Zach. Actually, the thing is, I’m pretty sure that I’m in love with you. Crazy, huh?_

Yeah. Maybe a hundred times worse.

So he takes the stony looks, shoulders the blame for fluffed lines and bad takes, and altogether feels like the shittiest person on the planet. The rest of the cast, for their part, do their best to reassure him that this isn’t the case—even the ones who don’t know what’s going on. Karl and Zoe remain his rocks, and he’s beyond grateful for their support, even though Zoe is the kind of rock that likes to hit him in the head every so often in an attempt to make him see sense. The knowledge that she’s almost certainly giving Zach the same treatment is at least some consolation.

They still want him to tell Zach. Of course they do. But Chris isn’t willing to get in-between Zach and Miles’ relationship, and he’s certainly not willing to risk ruining the movie completely with his selfishness. He just needs to get through a couple more weeks, and then he won’t have to be around Zach anymore. He’ll be able to get his head together, bury whatever this thing is for good, and try to salvage what remains of their friendship. Because the thought of doing the press tour—perhaps their last—as they are right now is physically painful. Just another thing that keeps him awake long into each night.

“Jesus, Chris, are you sleeping at all?” Karl asks first thing Thursday morning, concern etched into every line in his face. 

“I got a few hours,” Chris lies, utterly unconvincing. He now has to deal with a daily lecture from make-up, who are having to cover darker and darker shadows under his eyes.

Karl lowers his voice as several techs walk past. “Seriously, how long do you think you can keep this up?”

“As long as I have to,” Chris shoots back wearily. “You know, you’re sounding more and more like Bones,” he adds, sipping the coffee he’d grabbed from craft services on his way in. He’s pretty sure his blood is at least eighty percent caffeine at this point.

“I wonder why that is,” Karl says sardonically. “You’re the most—“

He abruptly stops mid-sentence, causing Chris to look up questioningly. He doesn’t need to ask for the reason, his gaze landing squarely on Zach, who’s standing a few feet away looking nothing short of awkward—which is a weird look when he’s in full Spock costume.

“Chris… can we talk?”

Karl looks pointedly at Chris, silently telling him to damn well sort this mess out, and then walks away, nodding to Zach as he passes. Chris turns and opens the door to his dressing room, holding it open so that Zach gets the hint. He doesn’t want to talk out here.

As Zach moves past, giving him a close up view of his face for the first time since their last talk ended so badly, Chris can see that the past few days have taken an equal toll on him. His eyes are dull, surrounded by the telltale dark shadows of disturbed nights—Chris is well aware of those, having to face them every morning in the mirror—and Chris feels fresh guilt stab at him. In trying to do the right thing, it seems he’s doing a real good job of screwing everything up.

“Listen,” Zach says, getting in before Chris can do more than close the door. “I… I want to apologize.”

“You don’t have—“

“No, hear me out,” Zach says, tone insistent. “I acted like an entitled jerk the other day. All you needed was a friend, and I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry. I just… I want you to know that whatever it is, when you want to tell me, _if_ you want to tell me, I’ll be here. No matter what happens.”

“Zach…” Chris shakes his head, wondering when he’ll stop falling for this man all over again, wondering what he ever did to deserve him. “It’s me who should be apologizing. It was never my intention to hurt you, or make you feel like less of a friend. Because you’re such an important person in my life, and I lo—I care about you. A lot. I just have some stuff going on right now that I need to sort out in my own head.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Zach says, and Chris blows out a deep breath, feeling the weight in his stomach lift ever so slightly.

“So,” he says slowly, attempting a smile. It feels strange after so long, like his muscles have forgotten how. “Now we’ve established that we’re both sorry, should we hug it out? Or—“ He doesn’t get to finish the sentence because he’s abruptly pulled tightly against Zach, strong arms wrapping around him.

“You’re an asshole, Pine,” Zach murmurs in his ear softly, his tone conveying something infinitely warmer and deeper. It makes Chris want to bury his face in Zach’s neck and never let go.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for making you guys wait so long. I hope it's worth it.

“Hey.”

Zach deposits a coffee in front of Chris and sinks into the seat beside him, taking a sip of his own. Chris’ make-up artist, a different one today, glances over at him and smiles before continuing her work.

“Hey,” Chris flashes a quick smile, and then quickly straightens his face again before he gets told off. “Are your Spock ears ready for their final performance?”

“Who says it’s final?” Zach replies easily. “Even if we don’t do another movie, remember that I have a few of these babies stashed. I can make a fortune doing birthdays, weddings, and bar mitzvahs.”

Chris can’t help breaking into laughter despite his intention to remain still. “Make sure you send me a copy of the photos.”

“Better yet, I can just drag you along with me. Added Spork power.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure it’s Spirk. Not Spork.”

Zach raises a single Spock eyebrow. “Been researching, have we?” Chris’ slight hesitation makes Zach’s eyes instantly light up with glee. “Oh my god, you have!”

“I didn’t _research_ it,” Chris retorts, repressing the memory of a night he’d morosely sought comfort in the popular notion that Kirk and Spock are soul mates. “I just happened to read an article.”

“Uh-huh.”

Chris can’t help breaking into a grin. “Shut up.”

“Okay, Chris,” the make-up artist interrupts, “if you could close your eyes. I just need to re-apply your battle wounds.”

“Sure,” Chris says and does as he’s told, still smiling.

It’s a huge relief to have Zach back onside, and although it means once again spending a lot of time in close proximity—what can only be described as the sweetest torture for Chris, especially since Zach is being even more attentive now—it is infinitely preferable to the torture of those black days without him. With that in mind, Chris is able to push the more challenging aspects aside and enjoy the easy camaraderie with Zach that he’s always cherished. It shows in his work, too. Everything seems that little bit easier and the final days of filming have proved almost effortless.

The only difficulty comes from the aggrieved looks on Karl and Zoe’s faces when they realize that Zach still doesn’t know. Chris brushes off their concerns and they are, for the most part, content to let it lie, seeing as he’s managing to eat and sleep again, but Chris can tell from the look in Karl’s eyes that the discussion is going to crop up again in the not too distant future.

~~~

Sure enough, Karl slides into the hotel elevator beside Chris that evening, the tone of his greeting suggesting that Chris’ time is up. He resigns himself to the inevitable.

“Whatever it is you need to get off your chest, make it quick.”

“Who says I need to get something off my chest?” When Chris fixes him with a look, Karl capitulates. “Okay, okay, maybe I do. It’s just that we’ve finished filming now.”

“Uh-huh…”

“So, really, you have nothing to lose in telling him—“

“Okay, let me stop you right there,” Chris says, cutting across him with a raised hand. “Nothing to lose? Really? We both have _everything_ to lose, not least a really great friendship.”

“Or,” Karl says, drawing out the word, “potentially everything to gain.”

Chris shakes his head firmly, looking back at the elevator doors as if willing them to open. “I can’t take that risk.” Karl’s not willing to let it drop that easily, though. He moves in front of Chris, his earnest face filling Chris’ vision.

“Look, I don’t pretend to know what Zach would do if it came down to a choice. But answer me this: doesn’t he deserve to know that he _has_ one?”

The elevator doors finally open with a cheerful ping and Karl steps out, turning back before the doors slide shut again. “Just… think about it, okay?”

Chris has been doing little else, but nods anyway to get Karl off his back and says he’ll see him at the wrap party later.

~~~

Normally it takes Chris no time at all to pack after a shoot. He’s not fastidious in that department—he’s the kind to dump everything back in his suitcase and worry about it later, a source of constant exasperation to his mother and sister over the years—but he finds himself dragging his feet this time. It’s finally sinking in that this is it. This might very well be the end of his Trek journey… the last time he works with Zach… maybe even the last time he sees him before he receives a wedding invitation. It’s a lot of pressure to deal with for a night that supposed to be a celebration, especially since Miles has already left after being offered a lucrative modeling job back in LA. Chris isn’t sure he can handle tonight at all.

Sighing, he awkwardly folds the last in a pile of shirts and places it in the case, then heads for the shower. He’s under no illusions that standing under the hot spray will wash away some of his tension, but it’s a good excuse to use up a little more time before he has to yield to the inevitable.

~~~

The wrap party is already in full swing a few blocks away. Taking advantage of a break in conversation, Zach’s shrewd gaze sweeps the crowd. Pretty much everyone is there, cast and crew alike, apart from the one person he’s looking for. Frowning, he heads towards the bar, where he can hear a familiar voice with an unmistakable accent loudly ordering another drink.

“Karl, have you seen Chris?”

“Not since earlier.” Karl squints up at him, clearly more than a little inebriated already. “Why?”

Zach shrugs. “No reason. I was just wondering.”

“Well, he promised he’d be here, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll catch up with him later.”He starts to go and then remembers something else he’s been meaning to say. “Hey,” he says, turning back, “I just wanted to thank you… for being there for Chris these past few weeks.”

“He’s an idiot. I kept telling him to tell you.”

Zach does an awkward shrug, shoving both hands into his pockets. “Yeah… well, it’s all good now.”

Karl looks up, relief flooding his face. “So you finally talked, huh? Thank god for that.” Zach starts to ask what he’s talking about, but Karl is already turning away again to accept his drink with a deep chuckle. “Seriously, I may play a doctor, but I can’t cure love sickness.”

“Love sickness?“

Karl seemingly doesn’t hear him, still on a roll. “Of course the idiot would only work out his feelings for you now, instead of—hey! Where are you going?”

Zach’s already halfway across the room to the door.

~~~

Chris is buttoning his shirt when there’s a series of loud knocks on the door. “Chris? Chris! You in there?”

The door swings inwards to reveal a slightly bemused Chris. “I’m here! Where’s the fire?”

“Is it true?” Zach demands.

“Is _what_ true?”

“Karl seems to think you have feelings for me. Do you?”

Chris stares at him, wide-eyed. His shocked expression quickly turns into a scowl. “Karl needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.”

“So it _is_ true?”

“…Maybe?”

“Chris—“

“Fuck. Okay, yes. Happy?”

“But…” Zach flails for a response, finally settling on, “you like women!”

Despite the terror burning in his chest, Chris has to roll his eyes at that. “Come on, Zach, you know I hate being pigeon-holed. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t been with guys in the past.”

Zach momentarily looks like a fish out of water. “You’ve been—“

“The point is,” Chris railroads over the top of him, because that’s a whole other discussion—one that he has no intention of getting into now. “I know what I like, and I happen to like… you.”

“You like me,” Zach repeats incredulously. “Jesus Christ, Chris!” He shoves a hand through his hair in agitation, looking as if he doesn’t know whether to sink down onto the couch or walk straight back out the door again.

“What?” Chris demands. “What do you want me to say, huh? You think I don’t know that falling for my best friend is probably a _really_ bad decision? That it could ruin our friendship, and everything else besides? But, guess what? I didn’t get to decide! It just happened!”

Chris turns away in order to hide the tears that have sprung to his eyes, the dam he’d built around his pain starting to crack. He takes a deep breath to compose himself. When he looks back, Zach is just standing there, mouth agape, looking nothing short of thunderstruck. 

“You… you’ve fallen for me?”

And just like that, Chris’ anger evaporates. He scrubs a hand across his face before finally meeting Zach’s gaze. “Yeah, and I’m sorry. I know you’re happy with Miles.”

Zach blinks, like he’s coming out of a daze. “Miles… yeah.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters, Chris!”

“You see? This is why I didn’t want to tell you. Man, I’m going to fucking _kill_ Karl.”

“Actually, it wasn’t his fault—he thought I knew and I didn’t correct him.”

Chris waves his hand dismissively. “Whatever, that doesn’t matter now. Can we please just forget this whole thing? Just… forget this conversation ever happened, okay?”

Chris looks at Zach’s face, hoping, praying that he hasn’t just broken the best friendship in his entire life. He can see the battle raging in Zach’s eyes. When Zach drops his gaze to the floor, Chris’ stomach goes with it.

“I can’t… Fuck, I need to get out of here.”

“Zach—“

Zach’s already at the door. “I can’t, Chris.”

Chris watches it close heavily behind him, fresh tears blurring his vision as he sinks onto the bed. He angrily swipes them away. “Nice work, Pine.”


	6. Chapter 6

Chris never makes it to the wrap party. He doesn’t see Zach again until they’re at the airport the following day, and their stilted goodbye in the departure lounge is almost as painful as the cold finality of his hotel room door clicking shut behind Zach the night before. There’s no hug, no warmth, just a swiftly delivered generic line without feeling. Zach can barely even look at him. If Chris’ heart isn’t entirely broken yet, this is the final blow to cleave it neatly in two.

Fortunately he doesn’t have too long to wait until his flight back to LA, and he spends most of it attempting to catch up on some sleep. But he’s only vaguely successful, Zach’s pained face haunting his dreams. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay in LA with you? I could take a few days,” Karl offers as they collect their luggage at LAX.

With no direct flight home from Vancouver, Karl’s got to catch a connecting flight from LA. He probably doesn’t have much time to spare if he wants to make it, but he seems more concerned about Chris’ wellbeing. 

Chris shakes his head, attempting a smile. “I’ll be okay, Karl. Go.”

“Fine,” Karl says reluctantly, hauling his carry-on up onto his shoulder, “but Zoe’s going to be keeping tabs on you. Don’t think I won’t fly halfway across the world again if I have to.”

He’s barely gotten the last word out before Chris is hugging him tightly, holding on perhaps a little longer than he normally would. The sheer gratitude he feels for having these friends in his life is overwhelming; he’s never going to take that for granted. Karl had felt so guilty about letting the truth slip to Zach, had looked terrible when he’d wrung his hands and poured out a heartfelt apology the following day, that Chris had found it impossible to stay angry at him. Regardless, Karl still retains a kicked puppy look that won’t shift no matter how many times Chris tries to reassure him that it isn’t his fault.

“Have a safe trip,” he says roughly, slapping Karl’s back as he pulls away. “Give the kids a hug from me.”

“I will,” Karl nods, smiling briefly, “and you can come visit us, anytime. Remember that. It’s an open invitation.”

“Thanks.” Chris smiles back, and it’s not as much of an effort this time. “I might just do that.”

“Good,” Karl says, sounding satisfied, although he still doesn’t make a move to go. “I’ll call you in a few days, okay?”

Chris snorts, resisting a strong urge to roll his eyes as he physically turns Karl in the direction for departures. “Go! You’ll miss your flight!”

“I’m going! I’m going!” As he jogs away, Karl calls back. “You know you’ll miss me when I’m gone!”

Chris stands there watching until Karl disappears in the crowd, his smile slowly fading. Then, adjusting his hat and sunglasses, and preparing for an unknown contingent of waiting press and fans, he goes in search of the car sent to pick him up.

~~~

By the next day, Chris is starting to think he should have gone with Karl. His bags are unpacked, his laundry sorted, and now all he can do is wander around the house, waiting for a call from his agent. After a solid six months engaged in various productions and press commitments, it seems he actually has some downtime to enjoy—an increasing rarity these days—but right now, more than anything, he needs to work. He needs to immerse himself in someone else’s character and life, _anything_ that will take him away from his own. Sitting doing nothing only allows his mind to dwell on everything that’s happened, which is nothing short of unbearable. He hasn’t heard a peep from Zach since they parted in Vancouver, and Chris certainly hasn’t tried to contact him. He probably doesn’t have the right anymore.

In a fit of desperation, Chris finally calls his agent to ask if there’s any chance he can start the next job early. He receives a firm and decisive no.

“Take a holiday. Relax!” his agent tells him amiably. “You’ll be back to work in no time.” 

When he hangs up, Chris throws his phone onto the couch and slumps down beside it. Relax. How can he possibly do that? Sleeping would pass some of the time, sure, but he has to be able to actually fall asleep for that to work. Lately all he can see when he closes his eyes is Zach’s face before he walked out of that hotel room.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ”

There’s a polite knock, accompanied by, “Are you done fucking, or shall I come back later?”

Chris looks up to see Zoe standing just outside the open door. “Zoe! What are you—“ He abruptly remembers. “Karl.”

“He’s worried about you. And so am I. So… can I come in?”

“Sure,” Chris says, waving a hand feebly to beckon her inside. “Don’t get too close, though. I’m a certified disaster area.”

“No, you’re not,” she gently chides, placing a brown paper bag on the table before settling on the couch beside him. “Have you heard from him?”

“Nope, and I don’t expect to. You?”

Zoe grimaces. “Not really. I mean, I’ve spoken to him a couple of times and exchanged texts, but he hasn’t said much. I know he’s upset, though.”

Chris huffs a humorless laugh. “Unwanted declarations of love will do that.”

“I’m sure he’ll come round eventually.”

Chris can tell she’s not nearly as sure as she’s pretending to be; she’s trying to be positive for his sake. He appreciates the sentiment, but hastens to change the subject, nodding towards the bag.

“What’s that?”

“A care package,” Zoe replies, smiling as she tugs the bag closer. Out of it she pulls a large cup of his favorite coffee—Chris can tell instantly by the wonderful scent—and an assortment of Danish pastries.

Chris groans as she hands them over. “If I hadn’t recently sworn off declarations of love, you’d be on the receiving end of one right now.”

Zoe’s laugh is light and bubbly. “You’re cute, but I’m taken.”

“How are the twins?” Chris asks, depositing the coffee on the table in favor of an apple and blueberry Danish.

“Crawling already and getting into all sorts of mischief,” Zoe says with another tinkle of laughter. “You should come over for dinner one night soon. They’d love to see you.”

Chris smiles and attempts a vague nod, not wanting to commit to anything for definite. He knows she’s worried about him being alone, but truthfully having company is more demanding right now. It’s hard to pretend everything’s alright when he’s the furthest from alright he’s ever been. Still, it’s nice to listen to her proudly describe her sons’ latest accomplishments, taking comfort in the fact that her life, at least, is pretty much perfect. And when she leaves an hour or so later, after pulling him into a gentle hug and pressing a warm kiss to his cheek, the brightness of her visit takes a while to fade.

~~~

It’s a couple of days later, when he’s actually preparing to go out for the first time in almost a week (the numerous care packages donated by his friends and family have all but gone), that there’s another knock at the door. Zoe or Katie, Chris surmises, as both of them have been checking up on him at such regular intervals he’s beginning to think they’ve worked out a babysitting schedule. He puts his money on Zoe, as Katie had been over for dinner the night before, and he’s halfway through a greeting even as he opens the door.

But it’s not Zoe or Katie standing on Chris’ doorstep. 

It’s Zach.


	7. Chapter 7

Chris blinks. “Zach… What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” 

“Er, sure,” Chris replies, standing aside to open the door wider. He can’t help staring at Zach as he brushes past him, his mind in turmoil. Did Zach fly all the way across the country to see him? Or maybe he has some other business in LA. Perhaps Zoe has spoken to him and this is a pity visit. Chris grimaces at the thought as he closes the door.

Although Zach’s visited his place countless times and knows it probably as well as his own, he doesn’t make himself at home the way he would usually. Chris has to gesture for him to sit.

“You want a drink?” he asks, wincing inwardly at the casual tone he’s attempting. Everything feels awkward in a way it never has before. “Water? Coffee? Beer?” _Shot of whisky?_

“Yeah, beer would be good.”

It’s only when Chris places a bottle in front of him and takes a seat himself, at the other end of the couch so there’s no chance of accidental physical contact, that Zach speaks again.

“Miles is gone.”

About to drink, Chris lowers the bottle from his lips. Apparently they’re done with small talk already. “Gone?”

Zach nods, turning the bottle slowly in his hands. “We’re over. He’s moved out.”

“Oh.” A fresh surge of guilt crashes over Chris. “I’m sorry.”

Zach looks up, studying him curiously for a moment. “Are you?”

“What? Of course I am!” Chris splutters indignantly, unwilling to admit, even for a second, that a spark of hope hadn’t just ignited somewhere inside him. “The last thing I wanted to do was fuck up your life, Zach. That’s why I didn’t tell you. You were happy with Miles!”

Zach nods slowly and takes a sip, ruminating. “I was. Or at least I thought I was.”

“What do you mean?” Chris asks, hating that his voice catches.

Zach exhales heavily before looking up to meet Chris’ gaze. “I thought I was finally over you.”

Chris stares at him, rendered speechless until a surge of anger breaks his paralysis. He slams his bottle down on the table and pushes off the couch, needing some distance.

“Let me get this straight,” he says, attempting to keep his voice level as he turns on Zach. “You can’t get out of Vancouver fast enough after I tell you I have feelings for you, I don’t hear a word from you for weeks, _nothing_ , and then you show up on my doorstep out of the blue to tell me that?”

Zach has the good grace to grimace. “Yeah… I guess neither of us is great at handling this thing.”

And okay, he may have a point, but Chris still tries to hold onto his anger. It’s the only thing keeping him from losing his mind right now, especially since he still doesn’t know exactly what Zach is trying to say.

“Look, it was self-preservation,” Zach continues, placing his bottle down on the table to give Chris his full attention. “I needed time to process what you told me. I know I shouldn’t have shut you out like I did, but… Jesus, Chris…” He runs a hand through his hair, making it even more disheveled. “On a list of things I never expected you to say to me, that would’ve been right at the top.”

“Yeah,” Chris sighs, his anger draining away with it. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Zach gets up and cautiously approaches him. “I’m not.”

“Not wha—“

The rest of his question is lost in Zach’s mouth as he’s pressed back against the nearest wall and all but devoured with a desperate intensity. And fuck, if this isn’t the best kiss of his life, then his name isn’t Christopher Whitelaw Pine. He almost fucking whimpers when it comes to an end.

“Tell me I didn’t just make the biggest mistake of my life.”

For a moment, still trying to re-engage his brain, Chris thinks he means the kiss. Fortunately Zach clarifies his demand, his dark eyes burning with intensity.

“I need to know that this isn’t just curiosity or some other shit. Because once I let this out, I don’t think I’ll be able to put it back again—“

“Zach.” Chris’ voice is soft but it still gets Zach’s attention. “This isn’t curiosity. This is me being hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with you. I have been for a while… I just… I only realized it recently and, well, I thought it was too late—“

Zach cuts him off again, but in the best way possible. Chris grabs hold of his shirt to pull him closer, happy to take back a bit of control this time despite a large part of him still not quite believing that it’s happening, desperately hoping that he’s not about to wake up alone. Zach’s mouth feels very real, though, as do the warm hands sneaking underneath the hem of his shirt. It’s not the most comfortable of positions though, so Chris walks Zach back towards the couch and they collapse onto it together. Chris ends up half in Zach’s lap, which he doesn’t mind at all, although the resulting _oomph_ of exhaled breath breaks their kiss.

“Shit, sorry.”

Zach snorts, refusing to let Chris adjust his position or put any distance between them at all. “Will you quit apologizing?”

Chris smiles. Despite it being exactly as it was when Zach walked in, the room seems brighter now. _Everything_ has changed in just a few moments, and the warmth of it has infused the whole house. Still, Chris does feel like he needs to say one more thing.

“I am sorry, though. About Miles,” he says quietly. Watching Zach, he sees the shadow of sadness and guilt cross his face—feelings that have been Chris’ constant companions the last few weeks.

“Miles was great,” Zach says, regret lacing his tone. “I thought maybe he and I could spend our lives together. But,” he continues, swiftly overriding Chris’ attempt to interrupt, “that was only because I never allowed myself to hope, even for a second, that I had a chance with _you_ , Chris. This…” He grasps Chris’ hand, squeezing it gently. “This is huge.”

Chris looks down, intertwining their fingers, and nods. “I know.”

“And you’re absolutely sure that this is what you want?” Zach presses, his tone pulling Chris’ gaze back up. 

Needing to banish the lingering fear and insecurity in Zach’s eyes, Chris cups his face and says resolutely, “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

Zach surges forward to kiss him again, an edge of desperation still there along with a good deal of relief. Chris allows him to take control, conveying the depth of his feelings in every brush of skin, with the aim of leaving Zach in no doubt whatsoever of his sincerity. And Zach seems to sense it, the remaining tension in his body easing as he pulls Chris even closer so that there’s no space between them at all. Chris groans low in his throat as he feels hard heat meet his own, suddenly overwhelmed by a need and hunger stronger than anything he’s ever experienced. He rolls his hips to feel more of that heat—unequivocal proof that Zach wants this just as much, that this isn’t all in his imagination.

As if reading his mind, Zach moves to attack his neck with a rough, “God, I want you.”

Closing his eyes, Chris angles his head away in willing surrender, fingers tangling in Zach’s hair. “You’ve got me.”


	8. Chapter 8

Zach groans into Chris’ neck, and it feels like his hands are everywhere, the touch both familiar and thrillingly intimate; possessive. They slide down to cup his ass, squeezing, pulling him closer even though it’s impossible because he’s already pressed tight enough against Zach’s chest to feel the rapid beating of his heart. Still, needing more, Chris rolls his hips again, making Zach jerk at the stimulation and raise his head to attack Chris’ lips again, biting softly in admonishment.

Chris makes a noise of dissent and reaches between them to unfasten the buttons of Zach’s shirt, because although Zach might have plans to take this slow, Chris needs him naked right now. He frees the last of them and rips the shirt open, running his fingers down through the forest of dark hair on Zach’s chest to the hard planes of his stomach. And he doesn’t stop, continuing down to free the button of Zach’s jeans and tug down the zipper. The heat of Zach is even more pronounced now, pressing insistently against his hand through tented underwear, driving Chris’ yearning up another notch. He lets his fingers trace the outline, skirting the head pushing up through the waistband, until Zach’s hand moves from his ass to close around his wrist.

He breaks the kiss, intending to question it, but Zach’s eyes are closed in concentration, his breaths measured. Chris realizes, with awe and more than a little delight, that Zach’s trying to regain some control, already too close. When he opens his eyes to focus on Chris again, they’re almost black with desire and Chris’ stomach swoops at the intensity. It swoops again even more strongly when Zach growls, “Bedroom.”

Then they’re kissing again and Zach’s yanking Chris’ t-shirt over his head as they stumble to their feet, their mouths separated for only a matter of seconds. The tee is tossed somewhere out of sight, and Zach’s shirt soon follows it. Chris is backed up towards the bedroom, trying to maintain enough mental capacity to maneuver around furniture, doors, and walls. He only partially succeeds, ricocheting off various surfaces before reaching the bedroom, ignoring the flares of discomfort in favor of the pleasure of Zach’s mouth and hands.

When the back of his legs hit the bed, he falls squarely onto it, pulling Zach down with him. The impact causes their mouths to jar apart again and they laugh against each other for a moment before the fire reignites. Once they’re both breathless enough to force their lips to part again, Zach shifts down to remove the rest of Chris’ clothing. When he’s done, he gazes at Chris’ body with nothing less than wonder until Chris catches his wrist and drags him back down.

“Less looking, more touching.”

“Sorry,” Zach says, laughing softly against Chris’ lips in-between kisses. “It’s just… it’s hard to believe this is really happening.”

Chris hums in agreement. “I know what you mean. But it _is_ real.” He finds Zach’s hand and threads their fingers together, squeezing. “Now hurry up and fuck me.”

“Classy, Pine.”

Chris’ grin is quickly kissed away. Then Zach is retreating again, this time to hurriedly remove the remainder of his own clothes. Chris takes the opportunity to roll over and grab lube and condoms from his top drawer, tossing them down the bed to where Zach is settling between his legs. He gasps as Zach lightly nips his inner thigh, nudging them further apart, and again as Zach’s mouth grazes his taint.

“I take it you haven’t done this for a while,” Zach murmurs, rising up to squirt a generous amount of lube onto his first two fingers. Chris jumps as they descend to circle his hole, the shock of the cool gel giving way to pleasure and the thrill of anticipation.

“Only with my fingers,” he replies a little breathlessly, closing his eyes as the first digit slips inside. Zach groans quietly, which makes Chris bold enough to add, “I’d imagine it was you.”

Zach’s next groan is even louder and deeper. “Christ, are you trying to kill me?”

“That would be rather counter-productive, don’t you think?”

He’s barely finished speaking before Zach’s mouth encloses his cock, effectively wiping the smirk off his face. Chris’ hips arch off the bed of their own accord, his body instinctively seeking more, but he’s quickly pressed back down and pinned by Zach’s free hand. His quick breaths are broken by moans as Zach’s tongue curls around his shaft; he barely even notices the extra fingers sliding in alongside the first, stretching him ever wider. Within moments he’s already close and has to reach down to grip Zach’s shoulder, stilling his movements. Zach’s dark eyes lock with his questioningly, but he seems to understand almost immediately. After such an extended build-up of want and need, neither of them are going to be able to last long.

“Now,” Chris pants.

If possible, Zach’s eyes seem to darken even further as he rolls the condom on and shifts into position, hooking Chris’ legs over his arms. He presses a deep, lingering kiss to Chris’ lips as he eases past the ring of muscle and Chris holds onto him tightly through the initial burn. The sensation is familiar enough, but he doesn’t remember ever feeling this full before, this complete. Zach’s heat is setting every part of his body on fire, melting every last trace of loneliness and hurt that has lain festering over the previous weeks and months, even years.

“You feel so good,” Zach breathes once he’s all the way in, his tone one of hushed awe. “So fucking good, Chris.”

Chris tilts his head up to meet his lips again, needing that connection as Zach slowly begins to thrust. Any remaining discomfort dissolves and is replaced by pleasure, sparks dancing along every nerve. He keeps his eyes open and on Zach, his fluttering eyelids, the hot breath fanning across his cheek, all serving to set this apart from the fantasies that have played out in his mind so many times. Still, it’s not enough.

“Keep talking,” he says, fingers pressing harder into warm flesh as sensation spirals. “I need to hear your voice.”

Zach’s eyes blink open and focus on Chris, burning with so much emotion that words are almost irrelevant. “So tight… so hot,” he purrs, sucking Chris’ lower lip into his mouth before trailing kisses along his jaw line down to his neck. “You look gorgeous spread beneath me...” He finds Chris’ pulse point and bites down, thrusting harder now. Chris just tries to hold on. 

“Fuck, I’m close… are you—“

“Yeah,” Chris gasps in agreement, allowing his eyes to close as the pressure steadily builds. Zach’s body is providing just enough friction against his cock as he rocks into him, breath ragged against his neck.

“Chris…”

The reverent whisper of his name is all it takes for Chris to arch and spill across his stomach and chest, his body wracked by seemingly unending waves of pleasure, sparks flaring behind his eyes and a string of garbled words spilling from his lips. The next moment Zach goes still, pulsing inside him, and then his lips are captured again in a kiss that’s somehow more heartfelt than any of the others they’ve shared so far. Chris hums and pulls him closer, marveling at how right it feels and trying not to think about how close he came to missing this.

~~~

“Would you have told me?”

Distracted by the smooth circles Zach is rubbing in his palm, which is only aiding the sleepy contentment that’s pulling at his eyelids, Chris blinks. “Huh?”

“If Karl hadn’t let it slip at the party… would you have told me how you felt?”

Chris sighs, shifting to look up at Zach. They lying curled against each other, legs intertwined. Zach’s gaze is soft, devoid of judgment.

“I wanted to,” Chris admits. “But I figured I’d missed my chance and I’d have to live with that… be happy for you and Miles.” Fresh guilt twists his gut. “I really didn’t mean for you to break things off with him.”

Zach curls his fingers around Chris’ hand and squeezes. “Actually it was the other way around. He left _me_.”

“What? Why?” Chris blurts, lifting his head to look at Zach properly. 

“He knew something was wrong as soon as he got home,” Zach replies. He pauses, huffing quietly. “Turns out he knew a lot of things, or at least suspected… like the feelings for you that I’d tried so hard to bury; apparently not hard enough. The final confirmation that you felt the same way was enough to make him walk.”

Chris stares at him, not really knowing what to do with this new information. He’d assumed that Zach had broken things off before coming here, but now there’s a tendril of fear unfurling inside him—the possibility that this is nothing but Zach needing comfort. That he’s not thinking straight.

“You didn’t try to stop him?”

“No,” Zach answers without any hesitation, “because he was right. He cut right through the storm of conflicting emotions in my head and hit the root of it all; the undeniable truth.”

Chris’ heart flutters in his chest. He feels like he’s on the edge of some kind of precipice. “Which is?”

Zach looks up at him with such intensity that Chris’ breath catches, and he feels stupid for ever doubting him. “I’m in love with you, Chris,” he says simply, “and I have been for years. Even if I’d tried to deny it, to make things work with Miles, he’d always have come second. He didn’t want that. And he knew that I didn’t either, not when I finally had a chance to have what I’d always wanted.” He brings Chris’ hand up to his mouth and places a soft kiss on his palm. “This is it for me.”

Blinking back the sudden moisture in his eyes, Chris leans in to capture Zach’s lips in a deep kiss that comes from the very depths of his soul. Then, gently resting their foreheads together, he says, “Me too.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the final chapter - apologies for the long wait and thanks to all who have stuck with this story. I hope it was worth it. Also, a big thank you to Semper-ama for being a wonderful and supportive beta and encouraging me to keep going when I was doubting myself. I couldn't have done it without you. <3

Jogged awake by Zach shifting beneath him, Chris makes a small noise of protest and holds on a little tighter. He feels Zach’s deep chuckle vibrate beneath his cheek.

“As much as I love this—“ Zach punctuates his words by dropping a kiss onto the top of Chris’ head “—we both really need a shower or we may end up permanently stuck together.”

Chris hums and answers roughly, without loosening his hold in the slightest, “Doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Uh-huh,” Zach says, amusement and a fair amount of disbelief lacing his tone. “Well, it would be an interesting issue to have to explain on the press tour.” There’s a pause and then Chris feels Zach tilt his head to the side to get a better look at his face. “Seriously, though, have you been sleeping at _all_?”

Chris winces inwardly and then cracks one eye open; Zach’s gaze is soft but his brow is creased in concern. “Not much,” he admits. “But hey, I’ve caught up on a lot of movies I’ve been meaning to watch.” At that moment, Chris is very glad that Zach didn’t show up a few hours earlier, when he’d been curled on the couch and sobbing into a cushion because of the tragic romance onscreen. He makes a mental note to erase all evidence of that later.

Zach sighs. “Okay, shower _then_ sleep… unless you have anywhere you need to be today.”

Since any thoughts of going out to get groceries disappeared the moment Zach had kissed him, Chris shakes his head. “Just here with you.”

“Good,” Zach says, unable to hide a smile. Then he abruptly slides out of bed, dragging Chris with him. “Come on then.” 

Chris’ reluctant groan softens as Zach covers his mouth in a scorching kiss; it wakes him up enough to see the potential of sharing a shower at least. He has a sudden vision of sucking Zach off underneath the hot spray and immediately wants it so badly he can almost taste it. Surging upright, and surprising Zach with the sudden movement, he guides them towards the bathroom, all the while keeping his mouth and tongue tangled with Zach’s. And Zach seems to approve, if the dick pressing insistently against Chris’ thigh is any indication.

Chris blindly flips the light switch in the bathroom, but has to reluctantly pull away from Zach to get the shower running at a decent temperature. His body wash is still on the side where he’d left it that morning, a small puddle having formed around its base from being carelessly discarded, and Chris has to wonder yet again at how much everything has changed in just a small amount of time. But then Zach is kissing the juncture of his neck from behind, hands slipping possessively around his waist, and all Chris can do is turn and surrender again, pulling Zach into the shower as he does so.

Standing under the hot spray, they scrub themselves and each other clean while exchanging soft smiles and kisses. For Chris, it feels like the water is washing away the last remnants of the past and heralding a new beginning. The brisk efficient strokes across wide expanses of skin turn gentler once the task is done, becoming lingering caresses and deeper kisses, and soon Zach is down on his knees with his mouth enthusiastically wrapped around Chris’ reinvigorated erection—another fantasy that in no way compares to the glorious reality. Burying his fingers in Zach’s wet locks, Chris closes his eyes to try to stop himself from coming too quickly, because the sight is almost too much. The sensation of Zach’s mouth alone, the smooth slide of his tongue, causes the pleasure to spiral more quickly than usual. The strong fingers grasping the backs of his thighs provide an anchor; Chris concentrates on them, on the firm press of pads against his skin, until the pressure becomes too great to resist. When his eyes finally snap open, they instantly meet Zach’s and, just like that, he comes undone. 

Chris doesn’t realize that Zach has a hand around himself until his gaze catches the movement. His need reawakened, he instantly reverses their positions and swallows Zach to the hilt, his hum of approval echoed in a deeper timbre above. Zach tastes as good as he imagined—better—and all Chris wants to do is keep pulling those quiet sounds of pleasure from his lips until the water runs cold, but Zach is already too close. His fingers tighten in Chris’ hair and then the first hot splashes hit his tongue and throat, and he can’t get enough of that either. He milks every last drop until Zach’s grabs a handful of hair and pulls his head backwards, leaning down to smash their mouths together in what feels like a primitive claim.

They steady each other as Chris gets back to his feet, smiles soon lost to slower kisses. Chris doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this. They only part, laughing, when Chris’ stomach rumbles loudly enough to echo off the tiles.

“I guess I haven’t eaten enough today,” Chris says by way of apology. “Are you hungry?”

Zach hums. “I’ve managed to work up an appetite. And I know better than to keep you from food,” he adds, smirking.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris grins, kissing him again simply because he can. “You finish up and I’ll go fix us something. I have a feeling that we’re going to need to keep our strength up.”

Eyes twinkling with a hidden smile, Zach pulls him back in for another kiss—one that almost makes Chris abandon breakfast altogether, but then his stomach rumbles again pointedly and Zach releases him with a laugh.

“Go eat.”

~~~

Chris has barely opened the refrigerator to peruse the contents, considering his culinary options, when there’s a loud rapping on the door. He pads over, thankful that he’d at least donned his sweatpants on his way from the shower. No tee, but then only a selection of people know his gate code and he’s pretty sure that any one of them can deal with his bare chest. Zoe. It has to be Zoe this time. He’s already thinking up excuses to deflect her visit as he opens the door, but no, it’s not Zoe. He’s really not winning any prizes on the guessing games today.

“Oh, so you _are_ alive!”

Chris tries to adopt an innocent expression, which isn’t easy in the face of sisterly wrath. “Katie! What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone!” she chides, brushing past him without waiting for an invitation. “Which means that I have to drive over to check up on you in person.” Chris quickly attempts to intercept her, but too late—her gaze falls on the scattered trail of clothes leading from the couch down the hall. “What—“

“Hey, Chris, do you have a spare—“ Zach stops short when he sees Katie. Chris is thankful that he at least has a towel around his waist. “Er... hey,” Zach finishes lamely.

Katie raises an eyebrow at Chris. “Clearly I shouldn’t have worried.” She shakes her head and looks back at Zach, eyes narrowing. “And you, I don’t know whether to hug you or kick your ass. Fortunately for you, I think the former option is winning… although I think I’ll wait until you’re wearing more than a towel.” Chris snorts. “So does this mean you two are together now? For real?”

Zach looks to Chris for his cue, and Chris doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” he says with a firm nod, moving to Zach’s side and smiling as Zach’s arm automatically slides around his waist. “We are.”

Katie flings her hands up in the air. “Hallelujah! You know,” she says, addressing Zach again, “I would have flown to New York to knock some sense into you if I’d had to.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“But I’m happy for you. Really.” She gives them a warm smile before pulling out her phone and turning back towards the door. “Now I just need to give the all-clear.”

“Huh?”

“Zoe.”

“Oh.” Chris nods and follows, while Zach looks slightly perplexed.

“I’ll let you get back to… whatever you were doing,” Katie says, smirking as she pecks Chris on the cheek. The door closes behind her with a thud.

Zach breaks the silence. “Well, that was… mortifying.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What was that about Zoe?”

“Oh, that…” Chris grimaces and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “She and Katie have kinda taken it upon themselves to check up on me since… well, you know. Anyway, they were just worried.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Chris—“

“Hey, hey, stop right there,” Chris says, closing the distance in three strides to cup Zach’s face. He can feel the prick of stubble under his palms “Forget the past. This, right now, this is what’s important.”

Zach’s gaze softens as he wraps his arms around Chris and pulls him close, dipping his head to capture his lips once more. The kiss is filled with tender emotion rather than frenzied passion, but it still causes the embers of arousal within Chris to spark into flame again.

“At least now we shouldn’t get any more interruptions…” he murmurs against Zach’s lips.

“There is that.”

Chris’ grin broadens as he kisses him again, and he’s back to thinking of pancakes and an afternoon in bed that may or may not involve sleep. He knows they won’t be able to shut the world out forever, but they have today. Plans and practicalities can wait until tomorrow. 

In a way, he’s glad that Katie knows at least; it makes it more real somehow, like they’ve struck out on a new journey. The first step has been taken, even if it was out of their control. The rest they’ll take together.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fanmix for "Three's A Crowd"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5655691) by [satismagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/satismagic/pseuds/satismagic)




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